DECEMBER 2010

ISSUE 30

Hello there, Neighbor,

Here we are at the end of the year; how time flies! How grateful we are to God and to you, Teammate, for sustaining this ministry for another year. We couldn’t have done it without you! As we approach Christmas, I like to remember that God didn’t send His Son to a palace, but to a lowly village girl in Nazareth. And when He chose those who would establish His church, He didn’t pick rich, educated people. He picked unschooled fishermen, a tax collector, a doubter, someone who had previously persecuted Christian, right down through the ages to you and me. How wonderful to know that there is a place for us to be used in His kingdom! No matter our status, we can be used to pray and support His ministry even if we cannot go out on the mission field. This year we have made visits to the reservations of America to bring hope and healing to Native Americans who have none. Thank you, Neighbor.

We are collecting toys and gifts for our annual Christmas trip. Many of the boys and girls where we go will have nothing except what we bring and it’s nice to be able to give soap, toothpaste, shampoo, toilet paper, diapers, and other health and beauty aids to the adults. These common products are hard for our Native brothers and sisters to come by because of the expense, but they are greatly needed. Thank you for all you can do.

May God richly bless you at this Holy time of the year. Thank you again for all you have done for this ministry while building up your treasure in Heaven. MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Your old missionary brother,

Don Cline

Jest ‘Fore Christmas

By Eugene Field

Father calls me William, sister calls me Will, Mother calls me Willie, but the fellers call me Bill.

Mighty glad I ain’t a girl – rather be a boy,

Without them sashes curls an’ things that’s worn by Fauntleroy!

Love to chawnk green apples an’ go swimmin’ in the lake –

Hate to take the castor-ile they give for bellyache.

‘Most all the time, the whole year round, there ain’t no flies on me,

But jest ‘fore Christmas I’m as good as I kin be!

Got a yeller dog named Sport, sic him on the cat. First thing she knows she doesn’t know where she’s at.

Got a Clipper sled, an’ when us kids goes out to slide,

‘Long comes the grocery cart, an’ we all hook a ride.

But sometimes when the grocery man is worrited an’ cross,

He reaches at us with his whip, an’ larrups up his hoss,

An’ then I laff an’ holler, “Oh, ye never teched me!”

But jest ‘fore Christmas I’m as good as I kin be!

Gran’ma says she hopes that when I git to be a man, I’ll be a missionarer like her oldest brother, Dan,

As was et up by the cannibals that live in Ceylon’s Isle,

Where every prospeck pleases, an’ only man is vile.

But Gran’ma, she has never been to see a Wild West show,

Nor read the life of Daniel Boone, or else I guess she’d know,

That Buff’lo Bill an’ cowboys is good enough for me.

Excep’ jest ‘fore Christmas, when I’m as good as I kin be!

And then old Sport, he hangs around, so solemn-like an’ still, His eyes they seem a-sayin’: “What’s the matter, little Bill?”

The old cat sneaks down off her perch an’ wonders what’s become

Of them two enemies of hern that used to make things hum.

But I am so perlite an’ tend so earnestly to biz,

That Mother says to Father: “How improved our Willie is!”

But Father, havin’ been a boy hisself, suspicions me

When, jest ‘fore Christmas, I’m as good as I kin be!

For Christmas, with its lots an’ lot of candies, cakes, an’ toys,

Was made, they say, for proper kids an’ not for naughty boys;

So wash yer face an’ bresh yer hair, an’ mind yer “P’s” and “Q’s“,

And don’t bust out yer pantaloons, and don’t wear out yer shoes;

Say “Yessum” to the ladies, and “Yessur” to the men, an’ when they’s company, don’t pass yer plate for pie again.

But, thinkin’ of the things yer’d like to see upon that tree,

Jest ‘fore Christmas be as good as yer kin be!

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